Love, Rewritten:(A Girls’ Love Story).

The dream began as it always did, soft, strange, and too warm to be real.

Rowan stood in a field of lavender under a sky the color of amethyst. The scent was overwhelming, intoxicating, familiar. A breeze whispered through the air, and in the distance, someone was laughing.

She turned toward the sound.

A girl with auburn hair danced between the rows, her white sundress catching the light like spun sugar. She twirled, arms outstretched, barefoot in the earth, laughing like the sun had kissed her soul. And even before Rowan saw her face, she knew.

"Elara."

The name came without hesitation.

The dream blurred. She blinked.

Suddenly, the sky cracked. Not thunder. A split in the dream's veil. As if reality itself was struggling to break through.

And it did.

The field became a bedroom, Elara's old room. The smell of lavender still lingered, but now it was from the sachet drawer near the bed. Rowan stood at the edge, watching Elara sleep. She wore the same sundress, but she wasn't dancing now. Her face was twisted in pain, murmuring in her sleep.

Rowan took a step forward, but the floor rippled beneath her. She was falling and waking.

She sat upright in Elara's bed, drenched in sweat. The journal lay on the floor, pages fluttered open. The pen had rolled off the desk and come to rest at her feet.

Her breath came hard and fast.

"Elara," she whispered, like saying the name could stabilize the spinning in her chest.

For days, since the spell had split their memories and rewritten fragments of their past, Rowan had struggled to piece it all together. Her memories felt half-stitched, some glowing with warmth, others jagged with static.

But the dream had felt… complete.

And not a dream at all.

She found Elara in the kitchen, barefoot, hair messy, holding a mug of tea she wasn't drinking. She looked up when Rowan entered and immediately read her face.

"You remembered something."

Rowan nodded slowly. "Not just something. Everything."

Elara's hand trembled. She set the mug down. "What do you mean?"

"The dream," Rowan said. "It wasn't just a dream. It was… a memory. You, in the lavender field. You used to go there with your mother. You took me once. And then you made me promise I'd always come back to you if I ever got lost in my own mind."

Elara stared at her.

"And I did," Rowan whispered. "I found my way back."

Elara covered her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes. "That was the last memory I wrote before I erased you. I—I left it in the journal. As a seed. In case we ever found each other again."

Rowan stepped forward. "Elara… I think the magic worked both ways. You wrote to save me. But the memory saved us both."

They spent the day sifting through the rewritten journal. Each page was a variation, a possibility. Different dates, different emotions, even different endings. Some were joyous. Some tragic. Some too twisted to name.

But one thing was constant: the core memory of the lavender field. It was always there. Always untouched.

"It's the anchor," Elara said, brushing her fingers over the page. "The spell couldn't rewrite that one."

"Because it was too real," Rowan said. "Too powerful."

That night, they didn't talk. They didn't try to explain it all. They simply lay in bed, wrapped in each other, listening to the rain tapping gently against the windows.

And in the silence, something mended.

Not with magic. But with truth.

In the morning, Rowan found the pen upright on the desk.

Words had been written in her sleep.

> Memory anchored. Restoration complete.

> Dream merged.

> Final entry optional.

Rowan stared at it. Then smiled.

She picked up the pen, and beneath the entry, wrote:

> I remember her.

> I choose her.

> Always.

Outside, the sun burned away the mist. The city woke. And in a quiet house where magic had once erased everything, two hearts pulsed with a memory that refused to fade.

Love rewritten.

But never forgotten.